The Leprechaun and hillbilly
by getyourstupidfuckingrope
Summary: Daryl Dixon finds Connor MacManus in a church. He soon finds out about Murphy MacManus who looks exactly like him.
1. Leprechaun

**A/N: So, this is my first story I'm publishing, so I hope it's not too bad :p This is AU, so I doubt we'll be seeing anything from Rick's group. Sorry about any grammar mistakes, I'm still learning English properly as it isn't my first language. Really sorry about that, but I'm trying my best :) Also, the accents might be a bit off and sometimes Daryl and Connor might be OOC, sorry 'bout that too. Hope you like it :) **

**None of these characters belong to me, nor does The Walking Dead or The Boondock Saints. **

* * *

„Don't be such a fuckin' pussy," the mocking voice of his brother said and chuckled in his mind.

„You're the one who fuckin' left me for dead," Daryl muttered, pulling out grass where he sat.

„Did what I had to do, baby brother," Merle laughed.

„I ain't your brother anymore, asshole," Daryl whispered and laid down in the soft, green grass, watching Atlanta, or what was left from it.

As he said that, the voice in his head disappeared and he was, once again, all alone. Daryl had never expected Merle to be such a coward. Yes, he had sometimes run away from their house, but that was different. Daryl would've done it if he could. However, he would never leave Merle for the walkers, even if he had to risk his own life. Thankfully, Daryl's crossbow skills were pretty damn neat, so he could fight against the few nearest walkers and manage to run away as fast as he could. Merle had taken his bike though, so he was on foot now. Now Daryl was without food and water. He knew he wouldn't last long anymore. Daryl was tired already, but pushed himself up. It was what... 5 months into this shit of a world? The stores were probably empty by now, but it was worth a shot. He'd die anyways.

Daryl clutched the crossbow in his hand till his knuckled turned white. You couldn't even describe his anger against Merle. He trusted that bastard and now he left. If Daryl would ever meet him again, he'd definitely beat the shit out of him. He quickly got the man out of his mind, at least, he tried. No matter how hard he tried, sometimes the thoughts just crept to him. It was hard to understand that a person he had known for so long had disappointed him so much. Daryl shook his head lightly and made his way down the hill he was sitting on. He had to do a quick run, so he wouldn't fall down, but it was hard as he hadn't eaten for about 3 days. Daryl could hunt for something, but he was too tired and wouldn't risk losing even more arrows.

The man crept around the corners, listening to every small sound. There were far growls, but they were too far for Daryl to care. He made his way to a pretty big grocery shop and forced the automatic doors open. Daryl grabbed everything that was left. It was mostly canned food and he blamed the stupidity of people because of that. Every idiot knew that you should stock up on canned foods, not fruit or shit like that. They'd go bad at some point, but those could be a couple of years, but fruit in the meantime could go bad in even two days. Let's not even talk about how nobody had a working fridge nowadays.

When he walked out the shop his back pack was filled with cans of food that he would eat as soon as he would find a, somewhat, safe place. He was still running low on water as he had only one small bottle and that was half drunk too. Daryl didn't expect to live much longer. He would probably fail to find any more water. Daryl did still hope a little to find a completely untouched store. However, this seemed too unrealistic.

He and Merle had been walking together for these few months. First they robbed a group of survivors from Atlanta. They had kids, so Daryl forced Merle not to take everything. Daryl didn't want them to starve completely. He didn't care much, but something did say to him that it was wrong. But it was every man for himself now, right? Merle lived by that rule, obviously.

Daryl heard those far footsteps coming closer and closer. He couldn't run much, but he saw that building. That building he strictly avoided entering. He stared at it, but it seemed pretty damn safe as the massive wooden doors would hold those things off at least for a while. Daryl ran towards the church as fast as he could and, after he was inside, he closed the door behind him. He saw some kind of small, brown table and pushed it towards the doors. After he had done that, Daryl leaned against the white wall and sighed.

Then he noticed it.

Daryl stood up straight again. He pointed his crossbow at the figure in front of him by the altar or whatever the fuck it was called. Daryl slowly made his way towards it and, as he was by its back he heard the words. They sounded like a prayer. Walkers didn't pray, did they? Of course they fucking didn't. Daryl was stupid for even thinking that. He cursed himself, but then turned back to the figure, which he, assumed, was a man.

Daryl now had his crossbow directly pointed at the man. He pressed it against his back and was surprised to see the man quickly turn around and pushing the crossbow away and pushing Daryl to his knees. Obviously, he would fight back if he wasn't that exhausted. Daryl looked up and stared into the man's eyes, „Let me go yah bastard," he was the one who started the fight, though.

* * *

Connor was massively pissed and sad at the same time. This was definitely not fair and definitely nothing he deserved. Yes, he killed people, but only bad guys and now walkers. They weren't actual people now, anyways. Those things were dead, so they didn't count as living. Maybe the people that they were before were innocent, but the walkers they were now weren't.

Connor was not exactly fond of driving this long in a car, but he had to get away. He didn't want to stay in Boston with all those damn memories and Murphy, who was now laying in his bed in the apartment Eunice had gotten them when they escaped prison. Connor didn't expect him to wake up anymore, though. He was dead now, a bullet through his brain once he became one of them. It was the hardest fucking thing he had to do. Connor shot his own fucking brother for God's sake. He was his flesh and blood and now everything that mattered to him in life, was gone.

Connor had thought about something. What if he would shoot himself? Would he meet with Murphy in Heaven? Suicide is a sin, though. Murphy told him that himself shortly before he closed his eyes and opened them only when they were dead and gray. He had to promise that he'd live on and wouldn't kill himself. That didn't even occur to him then, but now, when he had killed Murph, he started thinking about it more and more.

Connor had driven for days. He had to stop a lot to fill up the tank. Connor wasn't even sure where exactly he was going. Every city he had been to was gone. They were ruling over them now. The dead were the kings and the living were peasants. At least, it seemed so. Connor had not seen one living person in his whole drive. He was dying from tiredness, but at least he had water and food. Connor did not sleep the whole time he was on this trip. As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw Murphy.

„Why did ya kill me? I was just messin' with ya."

Connor knew this was false, but it still made him shiver. What if Murph was alive, but he shot him? Maybe he had a chance of survival. Perhaps, this was just a horrible dream from which he would wake up. This was too long for a dream though. It was almost 5 months now since the apocalypse and his brother went away before around 3 days. Connor knew this was real, but he still couldn't believe it. They had lost too many people and of all of them, Connor was the one to survive. He didn't deserve it, Connor would rather be killed that let Murphy die. Though, then he'd probably go through the same pain Connor did.

Connor sighed as he saw the sign that said „Atlanta". It was covered with dirt and blood, but you could still see the letters. Connor tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and went through the town. He then noticed the church. Connor hadn't been in one for a while now as he hadn't seen one near him in the other towns. He stopped the car near it, not exactly opposite it, so if there were walkers in the church, he and they would have to run quite a bit before Connor would get in the car.

Maybe it wasn't a bright idea, but didn't really matter now. Connor had made his way to the church and pushed open the large doors. He walked into the large room and instantly made his way to the altar. Connor knelt down and felt his two Berettas press against his legs. They just brought back too many memories and he was both sad and relieved to still have them. Connor sighed and shook his head. He closed his eyes and started praying.

Connor did hear the sound of the door opening and something being pushed. It didn't sound like a walker, but it might be, you never know, right? Connor waited for his time to die and be reunited with Murphy. He wanted to die painlessly, but the walkers probably wouldn't let him have that kind of death. Connor sighed, but he'd go through the pain to see Murphy again. He felt something against his back and then he stopped whispering the prayer. Connor quickly turned around and, grabbing the crossbow forced the man who had attacked him to get on his knees.

The man seemed weak and the shadow of Connor was not letting him see his face. However, he could still feel his arms that showed that they were really fucking weak and skinny. Connor sighed and let him go, just to feel the crossbow push against him once more.

„Who the fuck are yah and what the fuck are yah doin' in here?" The man asked, pushing the crossbow against Connor's ribs.

Connor didn't even bother to pull out the Berettas, he, actually, hoped that the man would fire the crossbow. It would just mean he'd see his beloved brother again. Connor sighed and looked out of the window, „'m a guy and I was prayin' if ya didn't see or hear."

Even in the dim light, Connor could see the man in front of him shaking his head. He sighed and stood up and offered the man a hand. The man refused to touch it and stood up by himself. You could still hardly see anything and Connor didn't even know how the man looked like. He sighed and then went over to the nearest window. It was shining the only light inside the cold church. You could clearly see the primitively cut beard and his short, spiky hair as it was used to be, only way messier than usual. He was wearing his dark pea coat, with a black shirt and blue jeans. It was the usual Connor Look. He felt the man staring at him, so he just looked outside of the window. There were walkers roaming around, so it didn't seem as they would get out of this place that soon. Thankfully, Connor had some food still spared, so he would be able to survive and he'd share with this man if he would want to.

„Seriously, dude, who the fuck are yah?" The man didn't let go of the question.

„If it really matters that much to ya, Connor," he replied.

„Leprechaun pretty much? Land o' the green. Man from the end of the rainbow?" the man mocked him because of his accent.

„Oh come on, man. Don't make fun of me accent. I'll make fun of yers if you continue," Connor threatened him somehow. He didn't seem scared about that, though. Connor didn't blame him. He saw him as threatening only when he had his guns in his hands and Murphy next to him. Dammit, Murphy, he was in his mind again. Connor pressed his forehead lightly against the ice cold window. He sighed and saw as his breath was able to be seen on the window. Connor wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat.

„What's yer name?"

„None of yah buisness."

„Y'know mine."

„That ain't no reason, leprechaun." Connor had the bad feeling that he'd call him leprechaun from now on.

The man walked near Connor, but still keeping his distance. Now, that the light was shining more brightly, Connor could make out his clothes and face. He was wearing boots, jeans and a sleeveless shirt with a vest, genius. However, Connor's heart stopped when he saw his face.

Murphy's face.

It was exactly like his. The birthmarks, the eyes, the hair, everything was the fucking same. Connor couldn't believe his eyes. Exactly, his eyes were making him see things. He rubbed them, just to make surre. No, it was Murphy's face. Connor laughed and went towards him and reached out for a hug. Murphy was just messing with him! Of course he wouldn't leave him. He never would, right?

„Murph, I thought ye were dead. How'd ye come to Atlanta? Did ye know I'd be here?" as he touched the man's back, he was pushed away and the crossbow was, once again, pointed at his face.

„Get your filthy hands off of me, leprechaun. My name ain't Murph or whatever yah just said." He growled, seeming more threatening now.

Connor laughed again, „Old tricks, little brother? Didn't know ye had a skill with the crossbow. How'd ye survive?" Maybe this was a hallucination. He wasn't able to survive a shot in the head, right? It wasn't possible.

„I ain't your brother. Haven't even seen yah in m' whole life," Daryl growled. As the man still came close to him and was ready to give him another hug, Daryl didn't hesitate and hit his head with his crossbow. He fell to the ground and Daryl got to him. Daryl had never ever seen this man before, maybe it was in a pub or something. His name ain't being Murph too, so he was probably imagining some shit.

Daryl went through his pockets and found a wallet and some papers that he didn't hesitate to check. He looked through his wallet; obviously, stealing money wasn't the case here. Daryl looked at his driver's license. It said Connor MacManus. He, obviously, looked way younger in the picture. Now he looked tired and had more of a beard than what he had before.

Daryl looked in every pocket of the wallet and then saw a picture. They were two men in a pub; at least, it seemed a pub. There were men around them and they all looked quite drunk, but they seemed happy. Daryl recognized the leprechaun, Connor, but then he saw the man next to him; himself.

It was Daryl. He looked exactly like that, but he didn't remember any such thing. Judging by the inside of the wallet, Connor was from Boston and Daryl hadn't been there in his whole life. Not even near it, to be honest. Daryl didn't understand a thing. Everything matched, their hair, eyes, mouth, everything. This was fucked up and Daryl didn't know what to think. It was some weird shit he didn't understand.

Daryl turned the photograph around to see words scribbled on the backside in a cursive hand writing: „Murphy and I. 1998." Daryl now understood that man was Murphy. He was not Murphy, he was Daryl fucking Dixon. Daryl was not some stupid religous Irish guys friend, never brother. He didn't know anyone Irish, anyways. Was this something he had forgotten? It couldn't be, though. That wasn't true. He was Daryl, that was Murphy, he was Daryl, that was Murphy. They were two different people with one face. It didn't make sense, but Daryl would ask Connor about it later once he would get conscious again.


	2. Grief

**Thanks for the nice feedback, guys :) I hope I won't disappoint you :D**

* * *

Connor knew he was sleeping, because he saw Murphy in front of him; pea coat, jeans and all of that shit. Typical Murphy, typical Connor. They didn't say anything, just stared at each other. It was an awkward silence, but nobody seemed to want to break it. They didn't need words to communicate, they could just look into each other's eyes and that would be it. That was what they were doing right now.

Connor was slowly getting back to consciousness and he felt his aching temple, so he rubbed his fingers against it. He sat up and looked around, seeing Murphy there, by the window his wallet in hands. Connor laughed and leaned against his hands, „Remember that night, Murph? Was real fun, brother."

„My name ain't Murphy and I ain't your brother."

Connor laughed again, „'course you are. Look at ye; yer looks are the same and the voices too. Come on, Murph, don't play these games anymore. Now do tell me, brother, how the fuck did ye survive the bullet and bite? Those things are meant to kill ye, y'know."

He slowly stood up, still being a little dizzy, but made his way to the man in front of him. Connor felt his hand push him away. He just chuckled at that, „'m glad to have ya back, little brother."

„How many times do I have to tell yah, I ain't your brother and I ain't Murphy. My name's Daryl, idiot." Daryl hissed to Connor. He was still staring at the picture, not understanding how this worked; could two people be exactly alike this much? Was it possible? Obviously, it was as he and Murphy were living proof.

„Oh, Murph, I have to tell ye somethin'. I really thought you were gone once I shot the bullet."

„Stop it, yah idiot."

„I really didn't think I'd see ye again."

And, again, he reached out for a hug. Daryl, who was still not getting his eyes off the picture, didn't even notice how he wrapped his arms around him. As he did feel them, he shook them off fast, „Get your filthy, fuckin' hands 'way from me. Let me get this through your thick Irish fuckin' skull; I ain't Murphy."

„Yes, yes ye are."

„No, I am not, douche."

„Oh, Murphy."

Connor couldn't resist, but smile. He smiled the rest of the evening and was even too excited to sleep once they settled down on the benches of the church, each covered with one or two of Connor's blankets.

„Y'know, Murph, I remember Ireland. I can just imagine Ma fighting off those fuckers. Can you? That would be funny," he laughed and Daryl groaned, „ Imagine Ma with a frying pan against the walkers."

It did seem funny in Connor's thoughts, in Daryl's not so much. He didn't even know this guy and he was already treating him like he was really his brother. Daryl couldn't believe he was stupid enough to not understand that he was Daryl Dixon, not Murphy MacManus.

„I'm tryin' t' sleep, asshole," Daryl growled, forcing his eyes shut again. He was already annoyed by all his Ireland shit and his Ma fighting off walkers. That was stupid and she was already probably dead. Judging by what he said about the bullet and bite, Murphy was dead too. Unless his father was alive, Connor was the only one in his family.

Connor didn't stop talking all night. Things about Ireland, Ma and Da. Nope, his father was dead. Finally, as he was about to talk about Boston, Daryl finally fell asleep. He had the thought that Connor actually knew that he wasn't Murphy, but just told him old stories about them and their family.

Connor heard the heavy breathing of the man, so he stopped talking. He sighed and stood up from the bench. This man wasn't Murphy, he was Daryl. Murphy would laugh at the stories he told, hug him afterwards and tell him this was a sick joke. Daryl, however, didn't. This wasn't a joke and Murphy was still in their apartment. Dead.

Connor sighed and looked out of the window, at the full moon outside. It shined the light inside the church and Connor looked over at Daryl who was sleeping on the front bench. He didn't have the tattoos Murphy did. Connor sighed and pressed his forehead against the cold window again.

„I'm sorry I couldn't save ye," Connor whispered.

„I tried, Murph, I tried," flashbacks from that night started to come back to Connor. They never left, though. They never would.

* * *

„Come on Con, don't be such a fucki-"

„I'm not the one who suggested we'd run in a shop, genius."

„Ain't that better than running in a street full of those brainless idiots?"

„Well, what if they come inside?"

„That ain't happenin'"

As he said those words, Connor saw a figure behind him. It was too late and, once he pulled his gun out, the walker dug his teeth in Murphy's shoulder. Connor shot the walker in the head as he was getting ready to take another bite. Murphy got on his knees and looked at the large bite which was now bleeding. Connor got next to him and his legs gave up from panic and shock.

„It's goin' to be fine, little brother," he tried to calm him down, but with no success. How could he do that, anyways? He was freaking out himself. A bite meant that they'd turn into a walker unless... You shoot them.

„Don't talk to me 'bout that shit, we both know fuckin' right that I'm fuckin' dying," Murphy muttered, leaning against the nearest shelf, his eyes wandering to the walker. The bite was burning his shoulder and it felt like hell. Connor couldn't do anything about this. They've lost many people like this, good people. Murphy was going to go away soon and he knew it, they both knew it.

„Y'know, Ma, she always played those tricks on us," Connor said, holding Murphy's hand. He wouldn't turn so shortly after a bite, but he still feared that he would lose him at any second, „One heck of a woman she was."

Talking about their mother just made both of them think about Ireland. Was she okay? Connor thought happy thoughts that she was okay, barricaded in the house, drinking something now and then. Maybe Ireland wasn't infected, anyways. Perhaps, it was just the States. Maybe this wasn't global. Though, deep down they both knew that this infection was all over the world and that meant that it was also in Ireland.

Connor felt Murphy squeeze his hand as he let out a loud painful moan. There was still blood rushing out of the wound, so Connor went through his large bag to bandages or something else to cover it up. He found some bandages, so he wrapped them around his shoulder to at least try to stop the bleeding. Not long after, the white bandages were soaked red.

They were in the shop for a while, listening to the growls outside, watching the sun go down. Connor was next to Murphy, still holding his hand. He couldn't believe that he'd lose his brother. Murphy was his only companion and his twin for fuck's sake. He was the person who kept him sane in this world. God was taking away the only person that really mattered to him; the person that gave him hope and loved him back as much as he loved him.

Not long after hallucinating Ma and Da, his eyes started closing slowly and Connor tried to keep him awake. After a while though, his eyes closed, not being able to keep them open. He was weak and he would slowly fade away soon.

„Conn," Murphy whispered, „Don't do anythin' stupid, alright?" he chuckled at that and coughed up blood after that. Connor wiped Murphy's mouth after that. He had done that for a while now and everything, their clothes, hands were with blood.

„I'll try," Connor whispered, hugging his brother and feeling his weak arms wrap around him. He held back the tears, he wouldn't cry in front of Murphy. Connor didn't want him to see him crying the last time.

„I want to go with ye, though," Connor said and looked down at the Beretta, „I don' want to live without ye, I'll die with ye."

Murphy at him, forcing his eyes to open again and the shook his head lightly, „Promise me, ye won't do that shit. No suicide, it's a sin. Ye'll go when ye have to and then we'll meet again. Promise me," Connor just stared at him and the lowered the gun.

He just stared at Murphy for a while, „I promise."

Murphy smiled for a second then coughed again. Now, he didn't stop and soon he fell over on his side. Connor hated himself for doing this to his brother; he was in pain, agony. He squeezed his hand hard again.

„I love ye, Conn," Murphy whispered, between the coughing.

„Love ye too, Murph," Connor muttered and then the tears started rolling down his cheeks. This wasn't fair; this was not fair at all. He was the one who was supposed to die, not Murph, not him. Murphy had to live through this, so he hoped that he'd jump up and tell him this was just a bad joke. It was reality though and that killed Connor inside. His brother was dying right now and in front of him. This was not a joke, this was the cruel reality.

Finally, the coughing stopped, but so did the breathing. Connor broke down at that point, sobbing on the floor, cursing everything and everyone for taking his brother. How could God do this to him? He didn't have to suffer, Connor did. Murphy had to live, Connor had to die. He didn't want to live in a world without him, so he was rethinking the whole suicide thing. Connor promised Murphy, though. He wouldn't do it; it was like his death wish he wouldn't dare to break.

After a while of laying and sobbing next to Murphy's corpse, he saw his fingers twitch. This was the time when he'd reanimate. This was it. He had to kill his brother right now, right here. Murphy's eyes opened, his eyelids twitching a bit. Connor saw those dead eyes that signalized him that this was not his brother anymore. He wiped his tears and clutched the Beretta in his hand. Connor pressed it against his forehead, but his hands were shaking and shivers were filling his body. Murphy, or Murphy's body if you wish, started reaching out to him, his mouth opening as if he would want to bite him. He did want to bite him and this wasn't Murphy, Connor had to remember that.

Connor felt the hot tears again, so he let them go and stared at the lifeless eyes of Murphy.

„Sorry, brother," he pressed the trigger and Murphy fell back, the floor and shelf covered in his blood.

* * *

Connor felt the tears again, now staining the window sill and his hands. He couldn't stop them; they were coming and wouldn't stop. Then he finally started sobbing, his forehead still pressed against the window. He didn't want to wake Daryl, but he just couldn't keep this in anymore.

„I'm sorry, Murph, I'm so fuckin' sorry," Connor muttered and pulled his hair with both of his hands.

Daryl woke up to loud crying. He saw the figure in front of him crying, wiping his eyes and nose every once in a while.

„Pussy," Daryl muttered and closed his eyes again. He couldn't sleep though, the crying was too hard. Daryl cursed silently and stood up, throwing the blankets on the ground.

„Fuckin' stop the cryin', yah faggot," Daryl growled and made his way towards the man. Then he heard him muttering stuff. Was he really insane?

„I'm sorry, Murph, I'm so fuckin' sorry," over and over again. Daryl was used to children and women crying, but not men. Men did not cry. This guy obviously went through a lot of shit if he cried. Daryl wasn't going to comfort him, though. He was a stranger. If Merle could disappoint him, so could this leprechaun right here.

Connor finally noticed the man behind him. He wiped his eyes and nose again and turned around, forcing himself to smile, „Shouldn't ye be sleepin'?"

„Yah think I can sleep with all t'is sobbin' happenin' here?"

Connor lowered his head, „Sorry," he muttered and turned around again. Daryl rolled his eyes and went back to the bench, „Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep yah self."

Connor did so and went to sleep, one bench behind Daryl. He lost Murphy, but he wouldn't lose this man. Daryl looked so much like Murphy, so his death would crush him even more. He wouldn't let Murphy die again, even though this man didn't even know him. Connor dreamt about that night over and over again, until he finally shot his eyes open, not able to take it anymore. It was a terrible feeling seeing Murph die over and over again. He just laid there on the bench, staring at the high ceiling of the church the rest of the night, listening to the silent snoring of Daryl.


	3. Ashley

They spent the last few days doing absolutely nothing. The both men didn't exactly talk to each other, no matter how much Connor tried to start a conversation. Connor finally had stopped the tries of talking the man and just sat there saying no words. Since the night he had caught him crying, Connor went out from the back door, they noticed it the next day, which lead to the fenced backside of the church. Connor had the suspicion Daryl saw him leave, but he didn't say anything.

„What are yah? Teenage emo girl or sumthin?" Daryl growled this morning and Connor laughed.

Connor didn't exactly want to show emotions to this man anymore. The only one he'd show would be only happy ones. Connor felt like this was Murphy watching his every step and he didn't want him to think he was dying from sadness, although, he was. Connor watched the sun rising and then looked over to his bag. He had grabbed the last whiskey, vodka and beer bottles he had found in their apartment when he left. Connor thought that this might take away his emotions for a while. He made his way towards the bag and pulled out the liquor.

Daryl looked up as he heard the sound of glass hitting glass. He noticed the bottles and grinned, „Ain't that a sin?"

„Don't think so. 'm killin' dead people, Murph, everything's a sin now." Connor said and opened the whiskey bottle and took a sip out of it.

„Oh come on, yah even drink like a pussy," Daryl said, took the bottle from him and let the liquor run in his mouth, a little spilling and landing on the floor. Connor chuckled and opened the other smaller bottle of whiskey. When Daryl was in the half of the bottle, he stopped and looked over at Connor. His bottle had one of those tops which could be used as a glass, so Connor did that. He seemed as he wanted to just drink the pain away as he didn't hesitate to stop drinking at any moment.

„A pussy like yah, shouldn't be drinkin' that much."

„I've had more, Murph." Even though he now clearly knew this wasn't Murphy, he just couldn't force himself to call the man Daryl. It didn't feel right, so he stuck with Murphy. At first, Daryl would punch him every time he'd call him Murph or Murphy, but he started understanding that he'd slowly kill him if he did so further on because he definitely wouldn't call him Daryl anyways.

After a while the both men were laying on the benches, taking a drink once in a while. They were both quite drunk, but didn't show it exactly.

„Di'n't really think I'd drink this shit anymore," Daryl muttered, taking another sip from the bottle and then putting it on the ground as it was almost empty.

„Aye," Connor said, reached over to the bottle and finished it, „I was thinkin' I'd be dead before I'd get drunk again."

„Aren't Irish people always drunk?"

„No," Connor chuckled, „We like to drink, though."

Connor stood up and made his way towards the window, leaning against it, „Y'know, you're one real asshole." He chuckled and Daryl raised an eyebrow. Daryl stood up as well and made his way towards Connor, „Aye, you've been treatin' me like trash, even though I've been givin' you food and shit."

Daryl just stared at him and Connor knew he'd lose it after a second or so, „Could've at least said thank you." It wasn't much, but it helped Daryl to finally hit his fist against the cheek of Connor. Connor laughed, even though, he didn't want to, he hit the man back and soon after that they were both on the ground fighting.

„I ain't yah brother; I ain't no pussy like him or ya." This let Connor burst out into anger. No matter how many times he called Connor a pussy, he shouldn't have called Murphy that. Now Connor went full crazy and just hit Daryl without a stop, the hits not too hard, but enough to give him a few bruises. Finally, Connor fell over to the side and then Daryl kicked his side hard.

„Fuck ye.

„Right back at ya."

Daryl felt the pain of him getting kicked in the leg hard. He rolled his eyes and rubbed his slowly swelling eye. Daryl noticed how Connor was smiling, even giggling a little, „Whatcha laughin' 'bout?"

„Nothing," Connor answered, but didn't stop laughing silently. He, just like Daryl, would have a black eye tomorrow, but they had no one else around here to judge. Didn't really matter, did it? Connor felt a little bad for beating up Daryl, but he started it, but Connor was responsible for making him kind of angry.

„Sorry fer callin' ye an asshole," Connor said and looked at the man. Daryl nodded slightly, but didn't say anything back. Connor sighed and turned away. Even though it was just the evening, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. All this fighting got him exhausted even if he was a Boston Saint.

The next morning Connor found Daryl packing his stuff. Connor rubbed his eyes and stood up from the floor, „what are ye doin'?" Daryl noticed him just now. He pointed over to the white door which Connor had used a lot these few nights. Connor made his way slowly towards the door. He didn't even have to open it to understand what made Daryl worry a little; walkers; a lot of them by the sound.

„Did ye see how many?" Connor asked, as he made his way to help Daryl pack. The other man shook his head, „there have t' be 'round 50 of 'em. Seems like somethin' attracted those rottin' fuckers." Daryl literally threw the last pieces of canned foods in there angrily. He seemed to not really be fond of the idea of leaving the somewhat safe church.

Suddenly, the growls outside were accompanied with scratches. Connor only now started thinking this through clearly even though his mind didn't work properly at the moment, „Did ye want to leave me?" Daryl raised an eyebrow, „Whatcha mean?" Connor looked back at the door, „Ye didn't wake me up. Did ye want to leave me for them?"

Daryl didn't respond, only closed the bag with a loud noise. He pushed it towards Connor, who was surprised by the strength that was just pressed against his chest. Connor wasn't sure now, was he a good companion or not. Daryl, however, didn't seem as he trusted him. Even though, they knew each other for a few days now. Connor didn't keep track of them, though.

Daryl clutched his crossbow and then went to the large front doors and pushed them open. Connor followed him closely as, when he made sure the way was clear, he made his way to the road. The Irishman pointed at the car by a house, so they went to it and Connor sat down by the wheel. He started the car and that seemed to attract the walkers as the massive herd came out from behind the church.

Connor didn't know where, but he just drove away. As he was sure the herd wasn't following them anymore, he slowed the car down a bit, „Where should we go?" Daryl looked back at him and then turned to the window, „Well, we ain't got no tents or shit like that, so maybe if we can find those we could go to the forest. Dunno if there are some left, though." The tents were probably long gone by now and Connor shook his head, „Might as well sleep in t'e car. I'd rather not risk goin' on a shoppin' spree fer a tent."

Daryl wouldn't share a tent with him, anyways. Listening to his sobbing in the church was enough. Who knew what the hell the leprechaun would do in the tent and in the forest. Daryl stared to the front and the upcoming forest. What if Merle was there? What if the group they stole from where there? Those assholes would probably kill him once they saw him.

There were children there, so Merle and Daryl left some food there. Maybe they were dead now, anyways. There were around 15 of them. No way could they've survived this long without much food and water. Merle was probably living like a king right now. Food, water and other shit. Daryl still didn't know exactly how the hell they managed to rob the camp, but, somehow, they did. It went by fast, so Daryl didn't remember much, anyways.

Daryl was ripped out of his memories when Connor hit the brakes, „The fuck," Daryl hissed and looked why he stopped. That was a kid. He was lying on the street; his flesh was eaten by those things. You could see mostly only bone and some flesh still, but the untouched part was his face. It was as innocent as it was alive and it seemed as he had died whilst a scream.

„Fuck me," Connor whispered and put his hand in front of his mouth. Children were his weakness. Somehow, he couldn't bear seeing someone die in such a gruesome way, especially a child; made sense, though. Even the most heartless person would feel their heart ache at this situation. Connor never had kids, never was expecting to have them, but he still loved those little fuckers. He didn't exactly know about Murphy, but he seemed to like them too. Murphy was better with them, too; at least, babies. Connor was better with older kids, though. He sighed and looked down.

„C'mon," Daryl growled and punched his upper arm. Yes, this look wasn't the best, but he'd have to get used to it. There were a lot of children dying. Younger, older, they all were dying. This wasn't the only child lying on the ground after being used as a buffet. That was the world they now lived in.

Connor snapped back to reality and drove on, trying to forget the child. However, he still thought about him. How were his last moments? Why did nobody save him? Where were his parents? In Connor's mind there was a movie going on. The kid running, tripping and being eaten and other scenarios he hoped were false, but, probably, were true.

„Look at the fuckin' road," Daryl said and punched his arm again. It hurt and would probably leave a bruise later if he'd continue doing this. Only now Connor noticed that he was not driving straight and almost had drove into a building, „Sorry 'bout tha'." Daryl just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Connor looked at Daryl and then at the forest they were slowly approaching. He drove into it and stopped after a while. Connor rested against his seat and sighed, „We'll stay here?" Daryl opened his car door, „Guess so." He was strong enough to go hunting again, so he didn't hesitate to leave, he was more than happy to.

„Don't follow me," Daryl growled as he heard the leprechaun's footsteps behind him. His voice was threatening enough, so, even though, he could take him out, Connor went back to the car. It was not exactly fun sitting there for hours, but at least... no, there was no at least. Being alone haunted Connor. What if Daryl would get bit? Would Connor survive another death? Especially, if the person dying would look like Murphy? Connor shook his head; Daryl was strong. He was stronger than him, mentally and physically.

It could've been around an hour when Daryl came back. He didn't hunt down anything, as it seemed. Daryl looked angry and pissed off, so Connor decided not to talk to him. He sighed and watched him for a while, until he got bored and walked off inside of the woods.

It was quiet there, except some birds and far away growls. Connor could've sworn he had heard footsteps behind him, so he moved his hand down to his gun, but didn't take it out just yet. He finally stopped. Connor, again, felt something press against his back. It felt like a gun, not a crossbow, so it, probably, wasn't Daryl.

Connor slowly turned around, his hand on the Beretta. He was surprised to see a girl. She could be in her 20s, but could pass for a teenager if she would want to. Connor raised an eyebrow and then saw the smaller figure behind her. It turned out to be a little girl. She had blonde hair tied in a ponytail, a blue shirt and brown shorts that you usually saw in expedition movies. Her black sneakers were covered in dirt and her age couldn't be more than 14.

„Nice t' meet ye," Connor said and chuckled. The girl with the gun still stared at him, not sure if she should trust him. Connor couldn't blame her; he probably looked terrible with his punched and tired face. The girl slowly started to lower her gun. She didn't seem like the type Daryl was, she wouldn't kill a living being.

The girl was tall, almost as tall as Connor, and had dirty blonde, messy hair which was, like the younger girls, tied in a ponytail. Her eyes were blue and quite big, but, Connor had to admit it, quite pretty.

„Shouldn't have done that. What if I try t' kill ye?" Connor chuckled, pulling his eyes off the girl. The girl rolled her eyes, „I can blast your brains out now." She pointed the gun now at the head of the man.

„Connor," he said and reached out his hand for a shake. The girl hesitated, but finally, after a few seconds, answered the hand shake, „Ashley and that is Emily." Emily smiled shyly and went behind the older girl. She was very shy about new people and Connor saw that and smiled back lightly.

„I'd bring ye to me car, but I doubt that my friend would be too fond of that," Connor admitted and sighed. He really didn't want these girls to die as they were young and had their life ahead of them. Especially the little Emily, she was the only living kid Connor had seen for months, so she had to survive.

„Don't I know you from somewhere?" Ashley raised her eyebrow. She had definitely seen this man before, but couldn't set her finger where; the TV, newspaper or the internet? She wasn't sure, but she would probably remember only when he would be gone. Connor then looked away, nervously, „No, probably not." Ashley got even more suspicion, but didn't say anything.

Connor was a little worried about Daryl's response, but didn't all the heroes in the movies take the fair maidens to their houses to save them from the villain? He talked Ashley into coming with him and it took a while, but she and Emily finally came to the car. Daryl, for Connor's surprise, didn't take off with all of his supplies and car. The key was in his pocket, anyways.

„The fuck is this? Ya gon' take any bitch in?" Daryl growled as Connor pulled him aside.

„Oh come on, have a little heart. They're young; we can't let 'em die."

„Ya can't, but I can."

„Murph, please."

„No way."

„C'mon, give them a chance fer survival. They deserve it."

After a while of arguing, Daryl got bored with all of this and muttered, „Fine, but if they are the cause of killin' me; I'm goin' after ya first."

Connor chuckled and went back to the girls, but Daryl went inside the forest. He grinned and nodded his head, „Ye can stay."

* * *

**It took me time to actually write something as decent as this. Seriously, this was the best I could write, so you should seriously start worrying about this story.**


	4. Veritas

**Thanks for the reviews :) **

* * *

Daryl still wasn't very happy about the newcomers. Though, he understood that the more people, the more are the chances of him surviving. Nobody could survive on their own anymore, never could, actually. Except Daryl, he could survive alone, but he took the comfort of a group, so he would be at least a little safer. It was probably terrible using others like this, but a new world meant new ways to survive. Nothing from the old world applied here.

While Daryl was spending his time either in the forest or in the car by himself, Ashley had finally managed to make a fire. It took a time, but it was finally working now. Maybe Connor used his lighter, though. Daryl could swear he saw Connor slide something in his pocket after the fire started. Was he seriously trying to make the girl feel better about herself? Daryl just rolled his eyes because of that. It was stupid from Connor, just trusting anybody like that. Actually, it was stupid for Daryl to actually trust Connor.

Daryl finally got out of the car and joined the three by the fire. He had to admit, it was getting cold and he needed to get warm again. Daryl sat down close to it and soon felt warm again. Connor was talking to Ashley and didn't even seem to notice Daryl. That made Daryl suspicious, normally the Irishman would not even let him out of his eyesight.

„Hey," Daryl said and punched Connor in the upper arm again, „We need supplies. Goin' quite low at the moment."

„T'e shops are probably all looted," Connor answered and turned to Daryl.

„Probably, but maybe there are houses in the area. I know there are sum rich guy place about 20 miles from Atlanta. We could go look there."

After arguing a bit, Connor had convinced Daryl that they all should go. He wasn't happy about the idea, but he didn't want to waste time. They had to go to sleep now, so they could wake up early and get on the road. Daryl and Connor were on watch this night, taking shifts every once in a while. Even in the car, Daryl could've sworn he heard „I'm sorry Murph, I'm so fuckin' sorry."

The next morning they were already on the road. It took a while, but Ashley helped them with finding the estate as she knew Atlanta quite good. Connor looked back quickly at her, „So you're from Atlanta?" Ashley shook her head, „New York, but moved here when I was around 13." Connor nodded his head and continued driving on highway 278. After a few minutes, they finally saw the large, metal gates.

„I think we just hit the jackpot," Connor could hear Ashley mutter. He stopped the car just by the gates.

„Wiltshire Estates," Connor read aloud the writing on the gates. He drove as close to them as he could and then stepped out of the car. Connor saw the dead bodies on the ground and sighed. Maybe this wouldn't be the jackpot. What if there were walkers there?

Daryl got out of the car as well. He opened the gates with a small noise and went in, crossbow in his hand ready to fire. Daryl went over a wall and chuckled, pointing at it, „Hey, leprechaun, we got us some problems right here."

„ALL DEAD, DO NOT ENTER" was written on it and Connor just noticed it. He sighed and went closer, „Want t' risk it?" Daryl turned to face the large houses, „This can be our little heaven if we clear everythin'." As he said this, one walker moved his head out of a house corner. Daryl rolled his eyes.

Connor turned to the car and went towards it. He opened the trunk and took out a crowbar. This would attract less noise than the gun, probably. He could just feel the eyes of Daryl judging him, so he chuckled a little, not able to hold it back. Connor closed the trunk and went to the backseats and opened the door, „Stay here fer a second. We gotta clean things up."

Ashley nodded and smiled, then turned away. Connor closed the door and went to Daryl who was just shaking his head. He chuckled and the both men walked around the houses, killing the unnecessary dead people. Connor almost got bit, but Daryl shot his crossbow just in time to stop the blackening teeth of the corpse sinking in Connor's arm.

„Last time I save ya, freak," Daryl growled and continued to walk. Connor chuckled at that and followed him. Soon enough they had cleared two houses and they seemed pretty loaded with food. The only things that were missing were the electronics, but nobody needed that anymore, anyways. Connor had got Ashley and Emily to the house and everyone settled in their own room except Emily, who insisted sleeping with Ashley. Nobody could blame her, she was young and scared.

Connor couldn't believe he was in a bed after all this time. He didn't think this luxury would count to him anymore. Hell, he didn't even think he'd still be alive. Connor fell asleep quite quickly and, before he knew it, he was already in his dream world. However, this night was different; there were no nightmares. Connor liked this change; he could sleep without fearing to wake up covered in sweat.

Daryl, on the other hand, couldn't sleep even if he wanted to. Something seemed off with this place. Why the hell would it be deserted if it had loads of canned food, warm beds and shelter? Probably people got scared off because of the ALL DEAD, DO NOT ENTER writing, but there weren't that much of the walkers, right? Daryl took them out easily with a little help of Connor. Actually, it was almost a miracle how quickly they did so.

Daryl finally got up from the quite comfortable bed and went downstairs. It was dark and the full moon was giving the only light in the kitchen. Daryl opened a can of pears a slowly started eating them. He wasn't even sure why he couldn't sleep. This place seemed neat, except the few walkers roaming around. They could take them, though. Daryl didn't even notice that he was done with the pears already and then he just sat there until Connor went down the stairs.

„What're ye doin'?"

„Are ya blind or somethin'?" Daryl growled back and turned to face the Irishman.

He was laughing again. Daryl rolled his eyes, why the fuck was he laughing all the time. It wasn't happy, it wasn't cheerful, for Daryl, it was creepy. Like he was plotting to murder him in his sleep with a teddy bear with razor claws. Daryl sighed and stood up from the chair, „Do ye have any plans for today?"

„Perhaps check t'e ot'er houses?" Connor suggested and Daryl nodded. This was one way to get rid of every walker and get more supplies. Connor watched as Daryl went upstairs and got his crossbow. He hoped Ashley wouldn't think that they left them.

„Let's go," Daryl growled and opened the front door. The street was full with the corpses the both men killed yesterday. They should burn them later, probably. The both made their way through houses, checking every cabinet, door, closet, everything. Connor was more afraid to find a living person than a dead one. Would they take them in as they did with the girls? Connor doubted Daryl would let anyone else join their small group. He almost didn't let Ashley and Emily join. Connor sighed and continued going through all houses, forgetting the thought about finding another human being.

Soon after, they were at the other end of the estate. It took hours and almost loosing, but they did it. This place was clear now. They were the only ones here. Connor and Daryl made their way back to the house, their bags filled with goods they found in the houses. However, they couldn't stop thinking how these people died. Some of them had good weapons and good food, so this would probably stay a mystery.

They were finally at the house and went in to find Ashley and Emily by the table, Ashley watching Emily eat something orange from a can. The both put their bags on the table and Connor fell on the chair, finally getting to rest after hours of cleaning the estate.

„You guys are good," Ashley laughed.

„Yes we are," Connor said and looked down. This reminded him of the times with Murphy. If he remembered correctly, they had this conversation or something around these lines. Connor sighed and smiled lightly and then turned back to Ashley and Emily. They sat there in silence and Daryl went up the stairs, maybe to get his proper sleep.

„So from where are you?" Ashley asked and tapped her fingers on the wooden table.

„Ireland."

„I guessed that, but in the States?"

„Boston."

„Oh," Ashley muttered, more to herself than Connor. Now it felt like she knew exactly who this man was, but just couldn't say it out loud. Connor raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

„I'm sorry, I just think that I know you from somewhere, but I don't know where." Ashley finally admitted.

Connor nodded, but wouldn't tell her anything. If she would find out, then let it be, but he wouldn't tell anybody. That was his past with Murphy. Without Murphy, it didn't really exist to him anymore. After this, they didn't talk anymore; they didn't have anything to talk about, anyways.

The sun was setting and Ashley and Emily went upstairs to go to sleep. Connor sat there for a while, just looking out of the window, remembering everything and then trying to forget it. Forgetting was way harder than remembering, so the only thing Connor could think about was Boston and their days there.

„Ah come on man, I was just startin' t' think that you were over that shit," he could hear the voice of Daryl growl behind him. Connor didn't even notice the tears, so he quickly wiped away and acted as if nothing had happened.

„Shut up," Connor muttered.

„Really, it's hard t' care for ya if ya act like a pussy all the time," Daryl said and sat down opposite him.

„Are ye admitting that ye care fer me?"

„No, I'm sayin' that I'm not able to care for ya."

„Sure ye are," Connor said and smiled. Daryl rolled his eyes, the Irishman just turned everything better for him and made Daryl believe that he would actually care if he'd die. He wouldn't, it wouldn't matter to him. Daryl could kill him himself and wouldn't feel a thing. He thought that, at least.

Connor finally stood up and went upstairs and Daryl followed him. They both went to their rooms and fell asleep. Daryl, for his surprise, fell asleep too. It was weird feeling safe at night, not worrying about something coming through the door and killing you; especially nowadays. If they would be on the road, Daryl would avoid sleeping at night, fearing that he'd get eaten by the corpses whilst he would sleep. But in this place he actually felt as safe as he could manage to feel in an apocalypse.

Connor had those nightmares again; just because he thought about him this evening. That little detail had changed his good night sleep. He could just feel how he was moving all around the bed, messing up the sheets and everything. Connor knew how this would be resulted; waking up terrified and not able to go to sleep again. However, he wasn't woken up by himself. Somebody was shaking him and Connor woke up, happy he could escape the terrible dream he dreamt over and over again.

Connor sat up quickly in the bed, finally able to open his eyes. The figure that woke him up was almost hit by his head, but avoided that by moving away quickly. Connor wasn't sure what was happening, „How many?" The figure shook their head, „No walkers." It was Ashley.

Connor rubbed his eyes and felt the girl sitting down next to him on the bed. He wasn't sure what the hell was happening, „What then?" Connor heard Ashley sigh, „I know who you are now."

Connor raised an eyebrow, but then it hit him. She knew who he was. Connor was afraid of this happening, but he couldn't lie about this anymore. Daryl wouldn't have to know, anyways.

„Connor MacManus," Ashley muttered and Connor sighed, „Aye," he whispered and looked at Ashley. She didn't look mad, not at all, just curious, „How did you know that?" Connor asked. Ashley chuckled, „You were all over the news. It was impossible not to see the broadcasts. Also, the Daryl guy looks kind of like Murphy."

This hurt Connor more than it probably should. Ashley felt the pain and cursed herself for saying something about Murphy. The man was definitely not Murphy. He looked like him, but he wasn't him. Ashley had a feeling she knew what happened to the real Murphy though. She didn't care what the man would think, so she hugged him. Connor needed this more than ever. The feeling that someone still cared for him and this hug showed that the girl actually understood the pain he was going through. He felt weak again and just couldn't help, but sob into her shoulder.

„I'm sorry," Ashley whispered and sighed. She really felt sorry for this man. He and Murphy didn't go anywhere without each other back in the days and everybody knew it. They went through hell, but didn't leave each other's side. He probably went through more pain than Ashley would ever have to. As if saying that it was okay, Connor stopped the sobbing and pulled away the hug. He was shirtless, so this was a little awkward for him, but Ashley didn't say anything. Awkward or not, she felt as she helped him a little.

The rest of the night Connor told Ashley everything about his time in Boston and in return, Ashley told Connor a little about herself. He found out that she had a mother and father, but they sacrificed themselves for the two girls. Connor admired that Ashley could tell this without shedding a single tear, but it probably hurt talking about this, so Connor didn't force her to talk about anything. Accidentally, the man's eyes accidentally moved to his index finger; veritas.

* * *

**I feel like I'm going to Hell for what I'm doing to Connor. Uhhhh.. .**


	5. Faith

Ashley just felt so bad for Connor after she left his bedroom when the sun was rising. She spent the whole night there, talking with him, comforting him if needed. It was painful watching this man being ripped apart by what happened to Murphy. Ashley couldn't even imagine what it was like being hurt like that. Of course, her parents had sacrificed themselves, but at least she still had Emily. At least she had some of her family left. Connor, however, didn't; he was all alone.

„Where were you?" Emily asked as soon as Ashley entered the room. She was curled up in the bed, seemingly scared, „I was worried about you." Ashley smiled, „Downstairs, I was eating," she didn't even know if that would make sense, but she didn't want to tell Emily. Her fucked up teenage brain would think of something else, probably. Emily nodded lightly and closed her eyes again. Ashley didn't want to sleep, but she still laid down on the bed opposite Emily as this was one of the 3 rooms with at least 2 beds. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, just thinking.

Connor sighed and didn't dare to close his eyes after Ashley left. He knew what would come after that, anyways. After a while just staring at the ceiling, he finally stood up and put on a shirt. It was hard not glancing in the mirror opposite his bed. Connor looked more tired than ever, still a little beat up and those fucking tattoos. He'd do anything to get them off. It wasn't that he was losing faith it was just that every tattoo was matched with Murphy. Why did they have to make them alike?

Connor, sadly, had to admit that he was losing his faith a little. Why did God do this to him? How come he took the good people and let the bad ones stay? Connor had so many questions, but he doubted they could get answered. They kept Boston safe; they helped to save innocent people. They did, not he did. They, Murphy and he, not just Connor.

After angrily punching the pillow, Connor finally left the room. He felt as if his thoughts were all there and once he entered it, he'd remember them again. Connor just went downstairs, had breakfast and went outside of the house. He'd like a cigarette at the moment, but he was forcing himself not to smoke. It was hard and he craved them all the time, so he had to stay strong against the craving.

„Hey," he heard someone behind him say in a quite high voice. Connor turned his head and grinned, „Hey, kid," he answered and then turned away again. Emily went next to him, „So you killed people?" Connor raised an eyebrow and then felt something in his throat, so he cleared it, „Uh... Ashley told ye?" Emily nodded, feeling kind of guilty, „I... well, kind of forced her. You know, she said something about you last evening and I wanted to know more. Curious Emily is curious," Emily laughed and sat down.

It was nice to see a breathing, smiling, living kid. The kid on the street kind of made Connor think that he'd do his best to keep this girl safe. He didn't even know her that well, but he didn't want her to end up like the kid on the street. Connor sat down next to her and leaned against his knees with his elbows, „So, tell m' 'bout yerself."

Emily chuckled, „What should I tell you?" Connor shot her a very serious look, but Emily knew he was everything, but serious, „Well, ye definitely know more 'bout m' than I do 'bout ye." Emily nodded, acting serious herself, „Aye, aye, captain. I've lived in Atlanta since I was born and I'm currently in eighth grade, so I'm 14. I love dogs, animals, to be honest, drawing, sports, you know." Connor smiled and nodded, „'ow old is Ashley?" Emily grinned, „She's 28. Yeah, I know," she saw Connor's unbelieving look and chuckled at that, „She looks 19, I know." Connor laughed, „Aye."

Emily asked a question back, „How old are you?" Connor looked away, but then back and lightly punched her upper arm, „Believe it 'r not, but older than ye," Emily laughed and shook her head lightly, „You don't say," Connor laughed. It was nice talking to her, a kid. He hadn't done that in a while and it sure felt nice.

The little bonding moment between the two was interrupted as Connor was pulled up by his black T-shirt. He looked back and saw Daryl, who pulled him away and dragged into the kitchen. Emily stayed outside, probably not that fond of Daryl, but Connor could've sworn he saw somewhat admiring in her eyes. Connor raised an eyebrow at Daryl, „Jelly t'at nobody hates m'?" Daryl rolled his eyes, „Sure, whatever, faggot." Connor chuckled, „ What do ye want, anyways?" Daryl looked around as if worried that someone was watching them, „Somethin's up. No way can this place be so safe without givin' a big fight. There's some shit brewin' and we're just makin' it bigger e'ry day. My call, we leave, right now."

Connor shook his head, „What are ye, insane? T'is is a heaven. It's prefect here. Warm beds, plenty o' food. Everything is here and we're just going to leave it here? No, no thank you." Daryl growled, but didn't say anything. He knew something was going to happen really soon. This was too good to be true, or maybe he was just not used to good things happening without anything bad.

* * *

„Connor," Daryl slapped the man right on the cheek, „Wake the fuck up, unless you want to end up as a chew toy." Connor shot his eyes open and looked at the man besides his bed, „T'e fuck?" Daryl slapped him again; it seemed just for fun, „Fuckin' walkers, t'e fuck." Connor got up from his bed as quick as possible and got dressed. He ran downstairs with Daryl and saw Emily and Ashley already waiting. Only now Connor noticed the ear-piercing car signalization sound. It seemed as every car in the estate was making that sound and it turned out that it was true.

„For fuck's sake," Connor muttered and rubbed the back of his neck. He could already hear the walkers coming down the streets and growling and scratching at every door. Daryl was cursing in seemingly every word he knew, „I fuckin' called it," he growled at Connor and punched him in the gut, „We're fuckin' dead because of ya, asshole," Connor didn't even bother to defend himself or punch back.

„Both of you, shut the fuck up and let's fucking leave," Ashley interrupted the two and pushed Daryl away from Connor. Daryl growled, but didn't say anything after that. He just packed the rest of the food in the bag. They were just about to leave as Connor turned away and was about to run back upstairs, but Daryl grabbed his pea coats collar, „Where t'e fuck are ya goin'?" Connor turned his head to face Daryl, „m' rosary." Daryl groaned loudly and was about to punch Connor again, but held the urge back, „Fuck the stupid cross, we're almost dead, leprechaun."

Connor took the decision and was getting ready to run again as the front door crashed down and walkers stormed in, „Still want yer stupid fuckin' cross?" Daryl growled and pulled Connor away as quickly as he could, taking out his knife, so he wouldn't have to waste arrows, but still ready to use the crossbow at any time. Connor already felt naked without the cross dangling from his neck. It was a weird feeling and he felt as he was doing the wrong thing. Connor knew it was time, though. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing, but losing Murphy, the whole fucking apocalypse, losing actually everybody he had loved proved that maybe God didn't even care about him. Perhaps, his whole life was just a lie. Would God be so heartless? Heartless to good people?

„C'mon," Daryl growled and the four ran as fast as they could to Connor's car back at the gate. Emily was almost grabbed, but Connor took her and flung her over his shoulder, so she wouldn't even think of dying again. They were soon at the car, but the growls behind them didn't stop. Some of the walkers even tried to go through the doors and windows of the car, but didn't manage to do that.

„Who t'e fuck did tha'?" Connor sighed and rested against the driver's seat. Daryl growled, but didn't answer. Did it really matter? Either this was just an accident or someone was actually trying to kill them. How could all the cars get the alarm at the same time, anyways? This was fucked up in every way. You were supposed to fear and fight against the dead, not the living.

Right?

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**Short chapter D: Also, about the previous chapter, Wiltshire Estates are actually from the comic book, so if you've read them, you'll know about them ; ] As always, thanks for the review : p**


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